


don't save us from the flames

by iljinhansol



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Amputation, Cannibalism, Daddy Kink, Dissection, Drowning, Heavy Blood & Gore, M/M, Starvation, Suicide, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8378215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iljinhansol/pseuds/iljinhansol
Summary: Seungcheol hits the small radio against the ground a few times as if that will fix it. The transceiver fades back into a strong fuzz before one clear statement comes through.“You’re not alone,” It promises. Whoever this is on the other end.





	

**Author's Note:**

> yeah Fuck This!

Static clears and a high pitch noise emits through the radio speaker, waking Jihoon. The radio has been pure static the past few weeks, but he’s kept it on just for white noise. There’s a voice cracking on the other side of the speaker. Junghan leans over the younger’s shoulder and listens for something comprehensible. Junghan has the most experience with the radios, but he can’t seem to find the right frequency to get any sensible information out of it. He returns it to the first station where the noise started.

Had he moved the antenna a little bit to the left, he would’ve heard an ad from 7 years ago that plays on repeat, encouraging families to take a vacation at a dream resort. One that’s now in shambles and barely has the remnants of a building left in it’s closed gates.

Junhui and Minghao have been staring into each other’s eyes for hours now. The other boys don’t question it. They’re scared of them, especially after hearing how the two became so close. Jihoon asked after seeing that the elder stays clear of Minghao’s neck, which bares a deactivated slave collar. Junhui disabled it years ago when he killed Minghao’s owner and rescued the younger boy. Ever since then they’ve been inseparable and it’s all cute until trigger happy Junhui rolls over from the cot behind them and lazily throws his arm out, shooting the radio. If anyone were to grow a pair and ask why, the answer would be, “The piece of shit was giving me a headache”. The bullet hits right in the speaker and the radio abruptly stops. Junhui tucks his pistol back in his pants and puts his back to the radio, rolling back into Minghao’s personal space. But the younger doesn’t mind.

Junghan, on the other hand, grabs the small radio and pulls it into his lap, groaning. He starts picking out the non-salvageable pieces. Soonyoung climbs up the ladder in the corner of the room to investigate the shot fired. When he sees Junghan cradling the broken radio, he rushes over and begins helping. He pulls his bag over his shoulder and starts scattering out miscellaneous radio parts that the two have picked up in previous runs. Soonyoung pouts; there’s not a single replacement piece.

 

-

 

The sun doesn’t set anymore. Hansol has tried to keep track of how many days it’s been, but he ran out of room on the walls of their home, and the skin on Chan’s back can’t take much more. If Hansol keeps carving lines into the boy, he’ll eventually run out of room. Seungkwan sits next to Hansol as he etches the day’s line in the youngest’s back. The eldest of the three sits there, legs crossed, brows furrowed.

“No no no, Hansol. You’ve got it all wrong,” Seungkwan tries to reach for the hand crafted shiv that Hansol uses to carve into Chan’s back. “It’s been 2768 days, not 2769.” He looks down at his arm, where he chose to do the same thing as Hansol, just in a less painful way. Seungkwan keeps marker dots up his arm. Under his shirt, his left arm, shoulder, and ribs are covered and his right side is half way there. Hansol pulls the shiv away from the elder’s reaching hand and tugs Chan’s shirt down back over his bleeding skin. With a pat on Chan’s shoulder, Hansol stands up.

“Guess we’ll just give Chan a break tomorrow then,” He shrugs and pockets his shiv, leaving Seungkwan and Chan alone.

Seungkwan grabs Chan’s hand and stands up. He touches the youngest lightly, just in case there are stray marks on his body that haven’t healed yet. The elder leads him into Mingyu’s room, which he has all to himself, only because he needs the room for all his medical supplies he’s picked up along the way. Chan sits down on the desk that is Mingyu’s makeshift examination table. He pulls up the youngest’s shirt and quickly catches the streak of blood that drips down Chan’s back. The past 26 days on Chan’s back have strategically placed butterfly stitches covering them. It’s an everyday thing, so Mingyu doesn’t bother wasting useful supplies.

Chan doesn’t fight it. He’s just happy to have a place to stay and people to protect him. Hansol might kill him one day, but until that day comes, Chan is content.

 

-

 

When Seokmin and Jisoo come back each night and lay out what food they’ve brought back, Jihoon divides it for everyone in the shelter. He’s never unfair with the rations and no one ever complains. Even Seungcheol, who bitches and moans about everything. The eldest of the boys is kept in a separate room, where he has to be hand fed by Jihoon. Because if he isn’t handcuffed, he’ll kill someone. He always talks about it, and he’s got a look in his eye that bothers Jihoon. The only reason Jihoon keeps the eldest around because he wasn’t always like this. In a short period of time, Seungcheol started talking gibberish and threatening the younger boys. Hansol almost stabbed him once after Seungcheol tried to choke him in his sleep. Ever since then, Jihoon took over as their ‘leader’ and locked Seungcheol in the bedroom closet. Seungcheol was a good kid, and Mingyu is working on something he thinks will cure whatever he’s got going on in his head.

When Jihoon is finished spoonfeeding Seungcheol, he gathers everyone upstairs (with the exception of Seungcheol) and pulls the shades over the windows, blocking out the sunlight. It’s then when Jihoon goes over the plan for the next day with everyone as they all lay in their sleeping bags and cots. Every night is the same. Seokmin, Jisoo, and Mingyu are really the only ones who actually pay attention, so in the morning when each boy is eating a handful of some kind of plain off brand cereal, the three that were paying attention re-explain what Jihoon elaborately explained the night before.

Every night, there’s the same reason why the rest of them just don’t seem to pay attention. Junhui and Minghao share a cot, and no one wants to interrupt them, no matter how sweet Junhui looks stroking Minghao’s cheek. Junghan and Soonyoung are crowded around the little light peeking in that Jihoon allows them to have as they try to make parts to repair something someone broke; tonight it's still the radio. Wonwoo can’t even hear a damn thing because he sits in the corner all day covering his coughs with a damp rag. There’s days where he coughs so much he hacks up blood, but there’s nothing that can be done. It’s somewhere high up on Mingyu’s to-do list, right next to ‘cure Seungcheol’. Seungkwan moves his cot extra close to Hansol’s, as if they’ll stay up real late after Jihoon’s itinerary speech and talk about their feelings. Hansol lays with his back to Seungkwan; he doesn’t get the hint though. And Chan lays flat on his stomach, trying not to move. If he doesn’t move, maybe they’ll think he’s dead and leave him behind one morning if there were sudden evacuation. A boy can only dream.

 

-

 

Technically, there’s no morning or night when the sun is always beating on the curtains. What wakes everyone up is usually split between Wonwoo’s groaning after he coughs up a sufficient amount of blood or Soonyoung, who (quite loudly) thinks he’s fixed something. Today, the boys are abruptly awakened by Wonwoo, who can’t get up and move to the next room over to hack up what seems like the last of his blood. There’s a thick puddle of clumpy blood not only dripping down his clothing, but on his rag, and the floor surrounding him. Mingyu is the first to wake up. He takes Wonwoo’s blood soaked towel and gives him a new damp one to breathe into. He used to struggle lifting the elder, but he’s put off so much weight after getting sick that it’s no problem for Mingyu anymore. He carefully navigates over all the cots and sleeping bags and takes Wonwoo to the bathroom, where he’s placed in the old broken bathtub. Mingyu pulls off the elder’s clothing and leaves to grab a bucket from his room and a few bottles of clean water.

He returns to find Wonwoo curled in a ball in the moldy bathtub. Mingyu sits the thin male up in the tub and leans his back against the cracked porcelain. He uncaps the water bottles and pours them into the bucket beside him. Seokmin wakes up second, and he finds himself in the bathroom, helping Mingyu gently scrub the blood off Wonwoo. They’re not sure how it got in his hair, but they clean it out anyway.

Jisoo is the last to wake up on his own. As he always does when he wakes up, he sticks his hand between the window and the curtain covering it. He quickly regrets it and pulls his hand back, clutching it. He crouches down beside Jihoon’s cot and gently taps him in attempt to wake him.

Once every few weeks, there’s a day where the temperature is so dangerously high that even a few seconds in the sun could make their skin blister. Wonwoo always gets worse as the temperature rises. Mingyu doesn’t think he’ll make it much longer if the weather keeps acting up, but of course, he doesn’t tell him that.

 

-

 

Mingyu has a journal in his safe that he marks Wonwoo’s progress in, although he’s not making much at all. There are a few pages that Mingyu ripped out and threw away because he was so fed up with the elder’s sickness. The first entry in the journal starts out like any other; ‘day one’.

Day one was an examination. Wonwoo hasn’t started coughing up blood yet, that’s years from then, but his chest hurts constantly. He sits down and scans day one’s notes.

‘ _Wonwoo is complaining of chest pains, says he was out in open area when nuc. fallout occurred. No physical lesions, a bit of skin scarring on the left shoulder. Tried antibiotics and rest.’_ And then he flips many pages forward, to last night’s examination. ‘ _Wonwoo is losing weight rapidly. Today’s weigh in was 94.7lbs, which makes it -3.3lbs from the last weigh in two days ago.’_ Mingyu closes his book and wraps a leather strip back around it, locking it back in the vault in the wall.

Mingyu rubs his eyes and turns around. Wonwoo is leaning against the doorframe. He's bone thin and he’s shaking. Mingyu doesn’t even notice the shaking; he’s appalled that Wonwoo is even standing on his own.

“I’m cold.” He says, his mouth stained with his own blood. His teeth are chattering, despite the 128 degree weather just beyond the walls of the room. Mingyu pulls him in and before he can even sit the elder down on the table, Wonwoo coughs and coats Mingyu’s clothing with blood. Wonwoo’s head drops to his chest and a sufficient amount of bloody purge starts dripping from his mouth.

Mingyu lays him down on his side and starts frantically opening drawers and cabinets, but he can’t seem to find a single thing he needs. His scalpels are gone. His gloves are gone. He can’t even salvage a makeshift syringe. He runs out of the room as Wonwoo lays on the table, nearing unconsciousness, but more likely, death.

 

-

 

For the past 2 years, Seungcheol has been handcuffed in a bedroom closet, isolated from the twelve other boys. When Jihoon checks on the elder, it’s the same as usual. Seungcheol will try and kick at Jihoon and spit at his feet. Jihoon has the key that keeps Seungcheol in the small closet, but so does Jisoo. Last night, Jisoo (or as Seungcheol refers to him, little church boy) took Jihoon’s job of feeding the eldest. And Jisoo, who sees the good in everyone, slips Seungcheol a key to his handcuffs. He tells him to get out. When Jisoo said out, he meant outside. To get out and see the world. But out to Seungcheol was downstairs in Mingyu’s supply drawers.

So the next morning, while Wonwoo is vomiting blood all over Mingyu’s room, Seungcheol makes his way downstairs. He’s nearly caught by Junghan, running around the corner to show Soonyoung that he’s one step closer to fixing the radio. But the eldest slips into Mingyu’s office and shuts the door behind him.

 

-

 

After four minutes of Mingyu begging Hansol for his shiv, he returns to his room to find the door to his room not only closed, but locked. But this house survived a nuclear fallout, and the door is knocked off its hinges as soon as Mingyu throws himself into it. He stands steady, shiv still in hand.

Seungcheol is on the table, squatted over Wonwoo’s body. The eldest has his hands full with Mingyu’s medical supplies. Mingyu contemplates tackling Seungcheol off the table, but instead, he moves closer to him, not saying anything. As Seungcheol notices that the younger male is getting closer to him he screams. And not some manly yell that would cause the other to flinch. This is a high pitch whining scream that is almost deafening. Mingyu clenches his teeth and for a second, he holds his breath.

In Seungcheol’s left hand, there’s Mingyu’s scalpel. Sprawled next to him is the rest of Mingyu’s medical supplies. His right hand isn’t technically holding anything seeing as it’s wrist deep in Wonwoo’s open chest. There’s blood all over Seungcheol. His neck, his hands, his raggedy old t-shirt, his lips. Seungcheol grins. His teeth.

While he’s smiling at Mingyu, all the younger male can concentrate on is the blood in Seungcheol’s mouth. The eldest wipes the shit eating grin off his face as he drags the back of his hand across his lips, smearing blood down his cheek. He looks at the back of his hand in surprise as if he didn’t know the blood was even there to begin with.

It’s at this time that Jihoon finally makes it downstairs. After pushing everyone upstairs and making sure no one followed him down (especially Hansol, who loves blood and guts), Jihoon stands in the remnants of the door Mingyu broke down. He doesn’t see the blood soaking Seungcheol’s body, but the look on Mingyu’s face clearly paints it out for him.

“I’m gonna fucking kill Jisoo,” He mutters.

 

-

 

Yet again, Seungcheol’s life is spared and he is locked back up in the closet. This time, Junghan has a new “piece of junk” as Minghao likes to call it. Junghan remembers not to help Minghao if he’s ever in need.

When Jihoon first sees it, it looks as if Seungcheol has a man-made metal muzzle chained around his face. Technically he does, and Jihoon wants to tell Junghan that Seungcheol’s mouth didn’t get him out of his handcuffs in the first place, but he keeps quiet. On the back of the metal contraption, there’s an opening where Mingyu can stick in some high tech formula he’s been working on.

Mingyu wiggles the closet doorknob and Jihoon lets him in. In his hands he’s got a cotton ball, a bandaid, and a syringe with a long needle sticking out the end. Mingyu steps next to the elder.

“I’m not even sure what’s going to happen to him, he’s not supposed to get this injection for,” He reads the dose number scribbled on the plastic tube. “Another 2 weeks.”

Mingyu has the strongest dosage of Seungcheol’s medication in his hand. He flicks the needle and steps closer and crouches down next to the eldest. He grabs ahold of the back of Seungcheol’s neck and attempts holds him still. His wrists are probably going to bruise from pulling at the handcuffs. As Mingyu pushes in the plunger of the syringe, Seungcheol freezes. He tries to push his shoulders up, but the muzzle prevents his neck from moving. A few moments after Mingyu administrates the serum, Seungcheol drops to the ground. The look on Jihoon’s face is quizzical, but he doesn’t question Mingyu or his intelligence.

Mingyu takes over feeding Seungcheol at night seeing as he has to force feed his unconscious body.

 

-

 

Junghan and Soonyoung take some time off from fixing the radio to sit outside the bedroom door and listen to Jihoon. Everything said is muffled behind the door, but they still eavesdrop.

On the opposite side of the door, Jihoon sits on the dirty mattress on the ground. Jisoo stands with his back against the wall. He looks guilty. He knows what he’s done. Jihoon clears his throat- he’s so much smaller than Jisoo- but the elder still jerks at the motion.

“Why’d you do it?”

Jisoo doesn’t look up from his feet.  

“I thought he would leave the house,” He rushes out, almost stumbling over his own words.

“You’re an idiot. He’s psychotic. You would’ve had to blindfold him and take him to the next city over to get rid of him,” Jihoon throws his hands up, as if that would emphasize Jisoo’s stupidity.

Jisoo stays quiet.

Out in the hall, Soonyoung raises his eyebrows and looks at Junghan, who’s face is just inches from his.

“What do you think he’s gonna do with him?” He whispers.

“I’m surprised he even asked him anything. I thought he was gonna kill him,” Junghan whispers back. “Did you see the look on his face when he called Jisoo in there?”

Soonyoung nods multiple times very quickly, his thick rimmed glasses falling down his nose with the motion.

Back inside the room, Jihoon stands up off the destroyed mattress and walks over to Jisoo. He grabs hold of his bicep and drags him across the empty room and reaches in his pocket, grabbing the closet key.

“You can stay in here for the time being,” He opens the door and pushes Jisoo inside. He stumbles to the ground and turns over, looking at Jihoon. “Be careful, Seungcheol’s been out for a few hours now, we don’t know when he’s gonna snap out of it,” Jihoon shrugs and shuts the door behind him.

 

-

 

The temperature seems to have gone down the next morning. It’s still hot, but it’s bearable. Seokmin doesn’t want to go on a supply run on his own, seeing as Jisoo is serving time in Jihoon’s closet jail. So he hops off the ladder and knocks on Mingyu’s door frame. The smell of the room is putrid and Seokmin wonders how Mingyu can even sit in here without gagging.

Mingyu hears the knock, but doesn’t look up from his Wonwoo’s body. There’s a tray next to him where he has Wonwoo’s ribs set nicely. Mingyu knows that removing all of Wonwoo’s ribs was unnecessary, but he took them out anyway. Seokmin doesn’t say anything. For a while, he forgets about the supply run and just watches Mingyu work.  He doesn’t know exactly what went on in here last night, but most of it is pretty imaginable if he puts two and two together. He pulls over the stool from the corner and takes a seat next to Mingyu, who is currently removing Wonwoo’s lungs. He cuts slowly and silently. The lungs are set side by side on the table next to Wonwoo’s corpse. Mingyu grabs the sheet that’s covering the elder’s face and drags it down, covering the inside of his body.

Seokmin doesn’t look at the lungs that Mingyu is in the process of cutting. He just watches Mingyu. His face shows no expression and his eyes are moving ever so slightly between the cuts he makes on Wonwoo’s lungs.

 

He cuts off a piece of the organ that doesn’t look like it should even be relatively near a body. He holds it closer to his face to try and get a better look.

“There was massive amounts of radiation in his lungs,” Mingyu says flatly. “Watch this.”

Seokmin is astonished before Mingyu can even show him anything.

Mingyu sets the cut portion of the lung on the table, taking his knife and poking at a small sack deep in the tissue. It quickly dissolves a portion of the organ. Mingyu looks over at the younger male next to him.

“That’s why he died.”

Seokmin mentally crosses Mingyu off the supply run partner list.

 

-

 

Seokmin heads back upstairs and finds Jihoon writing at his desk (which happens to be a hamper flipped over). He waits for the elder to finish writing and look up at him before he speaks.

“Listen, without Jisoo, I don’t think there’s anyone reliable enough that I could take with me today.”

Jihoon laughs when Seokmin mentions ‘reliable’ and ‘Jisoo’ in the same sentence. But before he can tell Seokmin that, Junhui interjects.

“We’ll go today.”

Minghao almost gets up and declines, but as soon as Junhui sees his brows furrow, he intertwines his fingers in the younger’s hair and locks on to it.

“We’re going on a supply run,” He enunciates.

“Yes, Daddy,” Minghao complies. Junhui kisses his forehead.

Seokmin takes a second to process what he just heard. That’s something new.

As soon as Junhui stands up, Minghao follows right after. The younger of the two doesn’t look right in a leather jacket anymore. Seokmin looks at Jihoon, who’s gone back to writing whatever he was working on before, unaffected by the two that just left. Maybe one day Junhui will make Minghao’s jacket into a collar.

 

-

 

Hansol just finished carving the next day into Chan’s back. The younger still doesn’t flinch, and after two thousand something days of Hansol marking the boy, he’s starting to lose the feeling on the left side of his body. As usual, he keeps quiet.

Seungkwan takes him down to see Mingyu, who’s still working on cleaning up Seungcheol’s mess. Mingyu is preoccupied when the two males enter his room. He’s finished up with Wonwoo’s body. It’s laying in the corner of his room now, sheet draped over the entire body. The table is now cleared of any signs of blood or radiation that may have leaked from Wonwoo’s corpse. It leaves Mingyu standing in the corner, back turned towards the two. They can hear what Mingyu is doing, but have no clue what it is exactly.

Mingyu turns to see Chan holding on to his left arm and his head hanging low. That’s usually how he comes in, but this time when Mingyu sits Chan up on the table, there’s something different about the youngest. His left arm is still just dangling at his side. Mingyu cleans up his back and excuses Seungkwan, who happily obliges and climbs back upstairs to bother Hansol.

The elder grabs on to Chan’s thumb and lifts his arm in the air. Chan doesn’t fight it. He then releases his grip and watches Chan’s arm drop to the table. Mingyu then realizes that the younger couldn’t fight it even if he wanted to. There’s multiple scars scattered all over his arm that travel up to his back shoulder, and down his ribs. The fresher cuts are on his back. Hansol says once he’s finished with his upper torso, he’ll move to the legs. And then Chan’s free, as if he’s some sort of object you throw away when it doesn’t work anymore.

“Chan,” Mingyu lifts the younger boy’s chin up. “Clench your fist for me.”

His left arm twitches, but his fist doesn’t clench.

“God damn it,” Mingyu sticks his head out the door and yells for Hansol, who jumps down without using the ladder.

He doesn’t say anything, he just hums. Mingyu pulls him in the room.

“Look what you’ve done,” He lifts Chan’s arm again, dropping it on the table once again.

Hansol’s dull expression still hasn’t changed.

“So?”

Mingyu looks up from Chan’s arm on the table and stares for a few seconds before he slaps Hansol clear across the face.

“Stop using Chan as your human calendar and have some common sense.”

Hansol holds a hand up to his cheek and rubs it a bit. He rolls his eyes and leaves before Mingyu can slap him again for being a little brat.

When Mingyu looks back at Chan, he’s looking into the elder’s eyes. His voice is so quiet, Mingyu can barely hear him in an already silent room.

“Does this mean my arm won’t work anymore?”

Mingyu just sits down on the stool in front of him.

“I don’t know kid, I’ll see what I can do.”

Mingyu never likes to break bad news, so he doesn’t. Chan’s probably never gonna use his arm ever again.

 

-

 

It’s the first night that Jisoo is locked in the closet with Seungcheol. The eldest hasn’t woken up yet, and no one has been in to check on either of them. Jisoo takes a deep breath and exhales. He can hear the footsteps approaching the closet door and the keys to the door clink together on the other side. Jisoo thanks someone above as Mingyu walks in holding two plates. And while Jisoo is indulging in canned meat, he has to watch Mingyu mash up Seungcheol’s food and force it down his throat. He’s not hungry after his third forkful.

Mingyu puts down the empty plate and sits down across from Jisoo.

“You’re not missing much. I’d much rather be in here anyway,” He sighs.

“Why’s that?” Jisoo wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

“Because I don’t want to sit in my room all day and have to smell my dead friend’s corpse while I find out why he died. Or tell a kid he’s only got one good arm now. Hell, Jisoo, I’m down there sharpening Wonwoo’s ribs to put together some sort of defense mechanism because I’m afraid one day Seungcheol is going to kill us all. So I’ll take a dark empty closet over anything,” He takes a deep breath as if he just used his last.

Jisoo just stares as Mingyu pulls a dose of Seungcheol’s medication out of his pocket. He takes the cap off and tosses it to the side. Seungcheol twitches as the medicine courses through his body. All that means to Mingyu is that the eldest is still alive.

“That’s not much to you?” Jisoo finally speaks up.

“Keep an eye on Seungcheol for me,” Mingyu stands up, ignoring the question. He grabs the empty plates and leaves.

 

-

 

Junhui returns through the bunker entrance that night without Minghao trailing right behind him. That's the first thing Seokmin notices. As Junhui pushes himself up through the ground, Seokmin notices the blood on Junhui’s hands and automatically thinks the worst.

Seokmin helps Junhui by grabbing the bag off his shoulder and sets it on the ground beside them. He watches Junhui, but Junhui doesn't notice. Seokmin clears his throat and finally asks after a few moments of silence.

“So… uhm,” He tries to think of the best plausible way to put this. “Where's Minghao?”

Junhui looks up at Seokmin like he's an idiot.

“He's outside skinning all the shit we've found,” Junhui stops for a second and notices his hands. “Did you think I killed Minghao?”

Seokmin shakes his head immediately. Junhui can tell he's lying, but he spares the fighting for another night. Junhui's tired, he just wants to wrap his arms around Minghao and go to sleep.

Minghao comes in with a disgusted look on his face. He's holding two small skinned animals and he's got blood up to his arms.

“Daddy,” He huffs, pouting his bottom lip. “I finished.”

Junhui is quickly thrown off for a second as he takes in the younger boy in front of him. He’s got small blood splatters painting his shirt and the lines of it dripping down his arms hit Junhui in all the right places. He grabs the skinned animals by their legs and hands them to Seokmin, who didn’t even volunteer to take them. Junhui brushes his hand through Minghao’s hair and kisses his forehead.

“You did good, baby boy,” He smiles against Minghao’s skin. The elder pulls him by the hand into the bathroom and closes the door behind them.

Seokmin looks at the pink slabs of meat in his hand, then to the bathroom door, and then around the open area around him. Just to check if he was the only one who saw all of that. As expected, he was, so he just silently collects the rest of their findings and hauls them upstairs.

 

-

 

In the bathroom, Minghao thinks Junhui is going to clean the blood off of him. But the blood is the whole reason they’re in there in the first place. Junhui just watches as the younger male crosses his arms at the bottom of his shirt and begins to pull it up. Some of the blood spatters seeped through and show faintly on his skin. Junhui backs Minghao up against the wall and pushes his shirt down.

“Keep that on,” He commands.

“But-” Minghao quietly protests.

“What did daddy say?” Junhui places his forehead against the younger’s.

“Daddy said keep it on.”

“Good boy,” Junhui praises. “Now take off your pants.”

Not only is Minghao afraid to move his forehead away from the other’s, he’s afraid that Junhui is going to notice how hard he is before the elder’s even touched him. His t-shirt doesn’t help to cover the problem and there’s a clear imprint of his dick pushed against it. Junhui’s hand automatically goes straight for it.

Minghao whimpers as Junhui drags a single finger up his shaft. Junhui laughs quietly before he kisses the other on the cheek.

“You’re already so hard for me, baby boy. Does all this blood turn you on?” He asks, slowly starting to stroke the younger.

Minghao wants to cry out so badly, but the walls are so thin that everyone upstairs can probably already hear Junhui’s commands. He just nods furiously and bites his lip.

Junhui unbuttons his own jeans and pushes them down a bit, enough for him to get his cock out. Minghao drops to his knees and looks up at Junhui. The younger looks so fuckable. He's sitting on his heels and his t-shirt just barely makes it half way down his thighs. Junhui shakes his head and pulls Minghao back up by the metal collar around his neck. He almost chokes, but that just adds to his pleasure. The elder lightly drags his thumb along Minghao’s cheek and down his jaw. His hand cups under his jaw, where Minghao pushes out an ample amount of spit into his hand.

Junhui coats his dick with Minghao's saliva and starts to spread it. Once he's nearly as hard as the other, he lifts Minghao against the wall, where the other wraps his legs around Junhui’s hips.

Junhui tests the younger’s patience by rubbing the remainder of saliva between his legs, occasionally slipping a finger or two inside him. Minghao's breath is hot against Junhui's neck. It's heavy and whiny and begging for Junhui to fuck him already.

“What do you want baby?” He asks.

“Daddy,” he whines as two of Junhui's fingers slip inside of him. “Please fuck me,” He cries out against his Junhui’s neck.

Junhui lets out small grunts as he focuses on the younger. He grabs ahold of his own cock and messily pushes against Minghao, trying to align himself. Minghao whimpers loudly as the tip of Junhui’s cock teases him before he slowly pushes his hips up to meet the other's skin. One of Minghao’s arms snake it’s way around Junhui’s neck and his fingers start to clench and he tries to hold himself up.

Junhui starts with slow thrusts while the younger’s other hand makes it down to his cock. He purses his lips and shuts his eyes as he begins to jerk himself off. They start to make a rhythm together as Junhui matches his thrusts to Minghao’s wrist. The bathroom is getting hot and they’re both starting to sweat. Minghao clenches his teeth as he spreads the small bead of precome down his cock.

Junhui takes one of his hands off Minghao’s ass and brushes his cheekbone, wiping a tear forming in the corner of his eye and making the other look up at him. He places two fingers on the younger’s lips and Minghao graciously wraps his lips around them.

As the younger’s body starts to twitch, Junhui pulls his fingers back out and takes over jerking the younger boy off. Minghao starts to pull Junhui in with his legs. There’s a quiet noise that escapes Minghao’s lips before his shirt is stained with his own cum. Junhui slows his thrusts, but what they lose in speed, they gain in force.

“Don’t worry baby,” Junhui hums “Daddy’s almost finished.”

Minghao’s ‘mhm-hm’ quickly transitions into a moan as Junhui grabs hard onto the younger’s ass. He furrows his brows and puts his forehead against the other’s. Their breaths are hot against each other and Minghao can feel them hit his lips with every ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ that comes out of Junhui’s mouth. There’s a brief pause in the grunts as Junhui cums. His mouth stays open and his eyes close tightly.

Minghao unwraps his legs from around Junhui’s hips. They almost buckle underneath him, but he keeps a hand on the elder’s shoulder. He pulls his arms through the holes in his shirt and discards it. Junhui takes in the sight of the younger boy’s body as he grabs his pants and steps into them. There’s nothing really special about his body itself, except for the fact that it’s technically owned by Junhui; and Minghao’s okay with that.

No one mentions what they heard as the two make their way to their cot upstairs.

 

-

 

Tonight marks the third night that Jisoo is locked in the closet with Seungcheol. Mingyu hasn’t brought dinner yet. But from what Jisoo was told, there was real meat involved, and ever since then he’s been excited. The canned meat they’ve been forced to eat for months now doesn’t live up to the real deal.

Jisoo sits in the corner furthest away from Seungcheol. He tells Mingyu there’s no reason why, but the two definitely know that Jisoo is afraid of the eldest. Even his unconscious body makes Jisoo nervous. Tonight is especially weird. Seungcheol’s fingers have been moving, but there’s no other sign of him coming to. The younger male scoots closer to Seungcheol and lifts one of his fingers off the ground and drops it. There’s no response.

The second time Jisoo picks up the elder’s finger, it twitches. Jisoo drops it and frantically kicks his feet away from him. Seungcheol’s eyes open slowly. He doesn’t move at all. He blinks groggily as he takes in the sight in front of him.

It’s just Jisoo pushed against the wall murmuring prayers to himself. Seungcheol wonders why he’s saying a prayer normally at a time of death. And it clicks in the elder’s mind; Jisoo thinks he's going to kill him.

Seungcheol slowly raises his head from the ground and watches Jisoo’s eyes grow a little more than they already have. His prayer is said faster and he tries to force himself further into the wall. The elder puts one hand in front of the other and starts steadily crawling towards Jisoo. Although the handcuffs prevent Seungcheol from making it there very quick, the closet is small and he doesn't have much space to crawl. At this point, Jisoo has tears forming in his eyes and his prayer has become a mess. He’s stumbling over words and he stutters on half of them. Seungcheol is only feet away from him. Jisoo thinks to himself for a second on whether or not he should scream or not. If he screams, he could scare Seungcheol into beating the shit out of him and ripping him open, but he’d also alert the others. But if he chooses not to scream, he gives Seungcheol the chance to beat the shit out of him and rip him open all without boys outside the bedroom door get a warning.

Seungcheol is only about a foot away from Jisoo when he sits back on his ankles and reaches his hand out in front of him, moving it towards Jisoo’s face. His other hand involuntarily follows with it. Jisoo’s mouth is open ever so slightly. He’s still got time to scream. But Seungcheol’s hand just cups Jisoo’s face, and from behind his muzzle; he smiles. The tear that dropped down his face slowly falls into Seungcheol’s hand. Jisoo sits there, mouth ajar. Maybe Seungcheol isn't going to kill him. Maybe Mingyu’s medication worked on him. Seungcheol is actually cured, he thinks.

The cramped room stays silent at Mingyu unlocks the closet door and stops. He looks just as shocked as Jisoo. He gently sets the plates down beside the door and makes his way over to Seungcheol. Mingyu grabs his shoulders and pulls Seungcheol’s focus to him. He crouches down and looks the eldest in the eyes. He stares for a second, checking for signs that he is mentally there.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Mingyu looks at Jisoo.

“No,” He wipes his tears on his sleeves. “He just woke up.”

Mingyu focuses his attention back on Seungcheol.

“Seungcheol.”

“Yeah?” He blinks.

“Do you know why you’re in here?”

Seungcheol definitely knows why he’s in here. But Mingyu doesn’t need to know that. So he lies and shakes his head. Mingyu can’t believe it. He thinks his medication worked and Seungcheol is completely cured. He smiles back at the eldest.

“Holy shit, I actually did it,” Mingyu stands up and leaves the room.

Jisoo can’t even focus on the damn meat sitting across from him because Seungcheol scared away his appetite.

Mingyu comes back shortly with Jihoon, who goes through a series of questions with him as if he’s some sort of mental health doctor.

“Do you know how long you’ve been in here?”

“Do you know why you’re handcuffed and muzzled?”

“Do you know what you did before you were put in here?”

Seungcheol plays dumb and shakes his head after each question.

Jihoon’s smart though. Seungcheol didn’t just get away scot free. He’s allowed out of the closet and they agree to remove his muzzle, but the handcuffs have to stay. Just until Jihoon feels safe and knows that Seungcheol isn’t fucking around with them.

The boys all stare as Seungcheol follows the three younger boys out of the bedroom. He smiles kindly at Seokmin, Soonyoung and Junghan, who just happen to be sitting together. Soonyoung whispers to Junghan that he swears he felt a chill shoot down his spine.

Mingyu sets Seungcheol’s dinner plate over in the corner. Chan is the only person in that corner that doesn’t subtly scoot away. He’s got his forehead rested on his knees, shielded by his arms. The eldest sits down and grabs his plastic silverware. It tends to get a bit hard cutting meat with your hands chained together, especially with plastic silverware. He struggles silently before he takes a deep breath and sets the plastic down. Seungcheol looks over at Chan and whispers his name.

The youngest peeks his head slowly over his arms. He doesn’t respond, but he’s paying attention. Seungcheol slides his plate closer to the other.

“Could you possibly help me out?” He eyes his plate.

It’s almost creepy how nice Seungcheol acts now. Chan scoots Seungcheol’s plate closer with his good arm and struggles just as much as Seungcheol did cutting the meat, but he gets the job done and goes back to covering his head.

Mingyu and Jihoon are watching from the opposite side of the room. The younger nudges Jihoon with his elbow.

“Look at that,” Mingyu smiles. “Look what I did.”

The two watch as Seungcheol has one hand dangle as the other shoves a forkful of meat in his mouth. Jihoon rolls his eyes and walks away. That is what Mingyu is proud of.

 

-

 

Hansol has been sitting outside by the boarded front door all day. In his lap lies an assault rifle, given to whoever is on watch. Hansol never really understands why there’s someone to keep guard when all the doors are blocked off and all the windows are on the second floor. There’s nothing to see for miles. The houses that used to stand beside the one the boys are residing in now are all in shambles.

If time were still a thing, it would be going on 7:30pm right about now. Hansol has been sitting with his head against the house for four hours now and hasn’t shot a single thing. The sky has gotten a bit darker, but it still feels as if the sun is still beating down on him. Hansol misses nighttime the most. He can’t remember the last time the sun set mainly because Chan is inside and he can’t count all of the marks carved into the younger’s back. Mingyu told him not to do it anymore, but what he can’t see won’t hurt him; only Chan. Hansol occasionally threatens to beat Seungkwan if he tells Mingyu that he hasn’t stopped. Seungkwan just laughs and jokingly punches Hansol in the shoulder, thinking he’s kidding.

Hansol stands his rifle up against the house and starts to walk circles around the house. There’s not much more time left before Jihoon shuts all the blinds and calls him in for dinner. But some time passes and as Hansol turns the corner of the house, he thinks he’s going crazy. There’s more shadow on the side of the house than usual. Then Hansol peaks around the corner of the house. That’s it, he tells himself, he’s officially lost it.

The sun is ahead, and it’s setting. It’s behind a hill hundreds of miles away from the house. It’s all Hansol can see. He grabs his rifle and yells for Jihoon, who immediately sticks his head out the window. Hansol has one hand tangled in his hair and the other pointing at the hills in the distance.

“Do you see that?” He yells up to the floor above.

And Jihoon squints. The sun is still blinding, but once his eyes focus, he sees it. The goddamn sun is setting.

Hansol climbs back up the side paneling and makes his way in the window. Not a single one of the boys has a clue what’s happening. All they know is that the sun is setting.

Seungcheol has no idea why they’re so excited that the sun is setting. After two years in a dark closet, he had start to forget that the sun even existed. He just smiles and acts like he knows what they’re happy about.

 

-

 

Junghan sits alone, radio in lap, pieces scattered all over the ground. He’s got a lamp at his knee that gives him enough light to see what he’s working on. Both he and Soonyoung are one step closer to finishing the radio Junhui obliterated last week. It's back to its normal static from before, but since there’s no broadcast coming through, Junghan can’t tell if he's actually fixed it. Soonyoung took advantage of the dark and went to bed along with everyone else, so the elder is on his own tonight.

It’s been a couple of hours since anyone made any noise outside the door. And Junghan is so focused on the radio in his hands that he doesn’t notice Seungcheol sneak in the door. The eldest doesn’t say anything, but Junghan finally looks up when he sees a movement in the shadow in front of him. His face is indifferent and he looks content. Junghan smiles at the elder and sets his screwdriver down beside him. Seungcheol makes his way next to Junghan and takes a seat next to him. Seungcheol doesn’t make direct eye contact with Junghan; he just keeps his sights set on all of the junk in front of him. He leans back and puts his hands behind him for support.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Junghan smiles again, breaking the silence.

Seungcheol just smirks and nods his head. He’s not much of a talker anymore. If he talks he’s afraid he’s going to ruin his cover. His happy-go-lucky, perfect angel cover.

“Nothing much has changed really,” He continues, screwing in the last bolt of the radio speaker.

Seungcheol shifts a little bit, “I mean, there’s this new kink in my neck,” He rubs his hand over the back of his neck and sits back up.

Junghan freezes. He hopes Seungcheol doesn’t put two and two together and realize that he was the one that made the muzzle that’s causing his newfound neck cramps. But Junghan knew he had bad luck as soon as Seungcheol smiled at him last night.

“I mean,” He pauses. “For awhile I had some sort of muzzle on in that closet. Maybe that was it.”

Junghan knows his covers already blown; not like he had much of one in the first place. Seungcheol looks up at the younger male and gives him a second to interject. But Junghan remains silent, just tightening the final screw.  

Seungcheol has him right where he wants him. And as he leans over to get a better look at Junghan’s face, the younger laughs nervously.

“Mingyu might have something... you know… for that…” He sets down his screwdriver, and almost immediately Seungcheol grabs it, proceeding to shove it into Junghan’s temple.

Junghan’s eyes are open wide and he has no control over his body. Sure, for a few seconds he can feel excruciating pain, but nothing else. Seungcheol keeps a tight grip on the screwdriver while his other hand catches the boy’s body as it begins to slump to the ground.

Seungcheol knows that at this point in the night no one would have heard that. And as Junghan’s blood starts to trail down the side of his face and stain his clothes, Seungcheol harshly pulls out the screwdriver. He puts the handle between his teeth and drags Junghan’s body towards the draped window and sits him up against the wall. The eldest pulls the drape off of the window and grits his teeth as the glass creeks when he opens it.

Junghan isn’t heavy. Seungcheol learns that as he lifts the younger boy over the window ledge and drops him head first off the other side.

The sound of Junghan’s body hitting the ground would be sickening if it wasn’t Seungcheol who heard it. The sound is pleasing to him, and he smiles as he hides the bloody screwdriver in his pocket.

Soonyoung is the one to find Junghan’s body when he’s asked to keep watch the next morning. From inside, Jihoon hears screaming, but no shots fired. He flashes a light out the upstairs window to find Soonyoung hunched over Junghan’s body. The elder continued to bleed out after Seungcheol tossed him over the ledge. The ground surrounding Junghan clearly shows it. Soonyoung can’t stop crying and no one knows why Junghan would do such a thing.

(Except Seungcheol.)

 

-

 

The sun doesn’t rise anymore and Hansol started marking the days on Chan’s back in circles now. Seungkwan doesn’t tell Mingyu anymore. He also doesn’t cling to Hansol’s side. Hansol doesn’t have a clue why, but he definitely doesn’t mention it. He actually thanks God for it. Seungkwan distances himself from everybody now, and Chan misses having someone to hold his hand on his way to Mingyu’s room.

As Mingyu goes through his usual routine of cleaning out Chan’s cut, the youngest sighs, slightly looking over his shoulder.

“Can you make him stop?” Chan hesitantly whispers as if Hansol is in the room.

Mingyu pulls down the younger’s shirt and sits in front of him. His mouth is ever so slightly apart, like he’s going to speak, but Mingyu can’t do a damn thing for Chan. He just puts a hand on the boy’s knee and looks him in the eye.

“Stand up for yourself Chan. One day we’re not going to be here for you,” He pats Chan’s knee and stands up, returning to his work prior to Chan’s arrival.

Chan hesitates before hopping off the table. Hansol is going to kill him.

 

-

 

That night at dinner Soonyoung cries all over his plate. He’s been crying since he found Junghan’s body in the morning. He's never felt like this before- the tight throat and painful breathing feeling is new to him. Throughout the day Jisoo wanted to take the younger boy to Mingyu because he thinks he’s going to suffocate on his own tears. Halfway through dinner Minghao throws an elbow into his side.

“Can you stop fucking crying? It’s probably why he threw himself out the damn window, you’re always such a whiny bitch.”

Minghao’s sudden burst of rudeness makes Seungcheol smile as he raises his cuffed hands to his mouth. Soonyoung just cries harder. And Junhui pulls Minghao’s head on his shoulder.

“Let him cry, baby boy,” He pets the younger’s head.

Seokmin rubs Soonyoung’s back for the rest of the dinner. As he comforts the younger boy, he notices Seungcheol is still smiling and staring directly at him. Seokmin immediately turns his focus back on Soonyoung. Something's still wrong with Seungcheol.

 

-

 

The next morning, Jisoo wakes up last. He’s woken up by a sharp pain in his stomach and tells Seokmin not to worry. “ _It’s probably uncooked meat from last night_ ,” he assures the younger. Mingyu fills in for Jisoo for today’s supply run. He’s in a much better state of mind than the last time the elder tried to take him.

Seokmin is wrapping his wrists as Mingyu comes out of his room adjusting the bag around his chest. He doesn’t want to ask, but Seokmin assumes that his choice of weapon that’s stuck under Mingyu’s belt are Wonwoo’s sharpened ribs. It gives off an eery vibe, but hey, what does Wonwoo need his ribs for anyway? The elder announces loudly up the ladder that he and Mingyu are leaving. Jihoon tosses down the assault rifle given to those on watch and (as usual) tells Seokmin to be safe.

Now that it’s always dark out, Seokmin duct taped one of the spare flashlights to the underside of the gun’s barrel. Mingyu manually carries his by hand and holds it in his mouth when scavenging.

Seokmin motions for Mingyu to come closer to him so he can shine on the map in Seokmin’s hands. Although nothing much on the map really stands in the world in front of them, they can still get an idea of their location based on lopsided street signs and metro stations that haven’t quite collapsed yet. Seokmin stays clear of the metro though; Junhui used to tell stories about what walks down there and Seokmin wants no part of it.

It’s quiet outside, and even though it’s expected, it still sends chills up the boys spines. Mingyu stays close behind Seokmin and keeps a hand on one of the bones tucked in his belt at all times. About a block ahead of them, there’s a dilapidated market that Seokmin meant to check out in the last run. He flicks his head in that direction and Mingyu follows along.

Mingyu walks ahead of Seokmin this time and approaches the market first. The handles of the two doors are chained together, already giving off a bad sign. But if it’s locked, there’s got to be something valuable behind those doors. Seokmin pulls the scope of his gun close to his eye and shoots the door, not only sending a warning to anyone or anything inside, but also alerting anything within a hundred mile radius. Mingyu stands stunned from the sound until Seokmin pulls him inside.

Mingyu immediately stops in his tracks as his flashlight lands on something inhuman. Whatever it is looks like it’s had it’s skin burned off. It’s restrained by a lengthy metal chain that’s attached to one of the slave collars similar to Minghao’s back home. Although it’s collar is still flashing a small red light, meaning it still has an owner. Seokmin slowly steps out from behind Mingyu and keeps his gun pointed at the individual in front of them. It flinches at the light but quickly retaliates with a hiss. Seokmin looks over his shoulder and shrugs.

“If we leave it chained to the wall,” he whispers. “We can just grab everything out of it’s reach.”

And so they head to the back side of the market, where they don’t find as much as they hope to; but some is better than none. As Mingyu throws some cans in his bag, he freezes at the new voice entering the market. He ducks down and pulls Seokmin along with him. They both kill their lights and hold their breath.

It seems that the voice in question occupies this building and is the owner of the slave chained to the front counter. Mingyu throws a finger up to his lips even though Seokmin hasn’t even made any noise. The voice is in the distance, but it echoes off the walls.

“Who the fuck shot the lock off?” It’s pissed, whoever it is. There’s the sound of a shotgun being cocked and Seokmin’s eyes widen. They stay crouched and slowly start to walk towards the back entrance as they hear a shot ring throughout the store. As they quickly begin to pick up their pace and scatter behind the counter and out the door, Seokmin flicks his light back on and tries to breathe normally again. Mingyu is following close behind. He frequently checks over his shoulder to catch glances of the doors behind them slam shut.

Mingyu almost trips over his own feet as the sound of something screeching abruptly comes from the doors. About a hundred feet back, they swing open again. Mingyu pushes himself of the ground huffing as he swears under his breath. The brute is on all fours, and it’s heading right for them. It’s collar flashing closer and closer to the two no matter how fast they run. It also doesn’t help that Mingyu can’t put one foot in front of the other. Seokmin changes course back to the house. If somehow they can outrun it, they can get in the house through the bunker entrance. It’s a plan Seokmin makes without consulting with Mingyu. So as Seokmin cuts the next corner, Mingyu keeps going straight. Mentally, he’s fucked. Physically, he could run for miles.

With Mingyu’s luck, the red light follows him, not Seokmin. It’s getting even closer, so to prevent himself from tripping Mingyu starts huffing ‘left’ ‘right’ ‘left’ ‘right’ just so he can keep track of his own legs. He takes the next left he can and ends up having nowhere else to go. He keeps sprinting to the chain linked fence ahead and aims to jump over it and keep going in the same direction as Seokmin. As he pushes off the gate, he trips over the other side, immediately fucking himself. And as expected, he’s toppled over by the creature.

Mingyu grunts as he hits the ground and throws his arm up to block a bite to the face. He’s frantically screaming for Seokmin, who in return, yells back that he’s coming from the next street over. Mingyu tries to grab on of the sharpened ribs tucked under his belt, but there’s a knee directly in his stomach blocking the way. Mingyu’s arm is being painfully thrashed back and forth. The teeth are tearing through Mingyu’s skin. He screams for Seokmin one last time, and from there three shots fired.

One hits the ground next to Mingyu, causing him to jerk. The second one hits whatever is biting Mingyu, but only in the shoulder, causing it to release his arm and let out a shrill screech. The third is hesitant but it hits the red flashing light in the middle of the collar wrapped around its throat. It quickly beeps and Mingyu pushes the thing off his body, drags himself away with his only capable arm. Seokmin joins Mingyu and crouches down next to him just as the collar releases a liquid that burns through it’s neck.

Mingyu tucks his arm between his legs and purses his lips. Seokmin pulls at him, trying to get him to stand up and get moving just in case the slave owner is out looking for his mutant. Mingyu takes the handle of his bag and wraps it tightly around his forearm, cutting off the circulation. He can feel the sensation of blood coursing down his arm but he can’t feel the cuts at all. Seokmin keeps pulling him along, even as Mingyu still continues to trip over himself.

It’s only a few miles back to the house, but to Mingyu it feels like an eternity. Seokmin kicks away some dirt on the bunker door and opens it for Mingyu, allowing him to get in first. He follows behind and pushes Mingyu up into the house, seeing as his left arm is now basically useless. Everything brought back is quickly thrown in the corner of the main room, causing a huge commotion. Mingyu falls over one last time and groans as Jihoon jumps down the ladder.

“What happened to him?” He crouches down beside the younger and unties the bag on his arm, causing a new wave of blood to pump out of the cuts dragging down his forearm. Jihoon’s question is ignored by the younger’s sudden need to wake Mingyu.

Seokmin climbs on top of the other and slaps his face lightly to keep him in his senses. Mingyu is constantly moaning and flinching now, and if he doesn’t tell someone what to do soon, all they know is that he’ll die. Seokmin slaps him hard, causing Mingyu to lurch forward.

“Mingyu,” Seokmin grabs his face, looking him in the eyes. “You need to tell us how to clean up your arm.”

Mingyu hums as his eyes flutter shut. “Just.. just cut it…. off.”

Seokmin grabs Mingyu by the jaw to keep his head from lolling back. He has no medical experience, so cutting off the arm is just a sure fire way to make sure Mingyu ends up dead.

“You’ll die if I cut off your arm...” Seokmin protests.

“I’m gonna die a hell of a lot quicker if you don’t,” Mingyu stutters over a few of his words. “Jihoon one of my drawers has a bonesaw, I can’t remember which one.”

Jihoon instantly makes his way to Mingyu’s drawers. The first drawer is syringes, the second is the remainder of Wonwoo’s ribs that didn’t fit under Mingyu’s belt. The third is locked, so Jihoon assumes the he found it. He’s small, but he manages to break open the drawer. He grabs every sharp utensil in sight and holds them against his chest as he makes his way back out to the main room. The scalpels clang against the bonesaw as they’re dropped to the ground next to Mingyu.

“You’re going to need something cloth like,” Mingyu’s head is starting to feel two times heavier and harder to keep up on his own. Without any hesitation, Seokmin unties his wrist wraps and waits for directions.

“Put it...in my mouth,” He slurs. Mingyu’s eyes are starting to roll back and he’s getting paler with every passing minute. The blood flow in his arm is starting to die down, but Seokmin doesn’t take that as a good sign. Mingyu’s head drops back and besides Jihoon, Seokmin is on his own now.  Which is bad, because Mingyu is the only one with medical experience. So Seokmin shoves the cloth in the younger’s mouth and grabs the scalpel from the pile beside him.

He takes a quick look at Jihoon before lightly pushing the blade into Mingyu’s arm. More blood surfaces and Seokmin automatically stops after making a cut only an inch wide.

“I’m gonna kill him Jihoon,” He drops the scalpel. “I can’t do this.” Seokmin gets off Mingyu and wipes the blood off his trembling hands. Jihoon doesn’t hesitate to pick up the knife and continue Seokmin’s cut. After making the full cut, Jihoon pokes the blade around in Mingyu’s arm. Like Seokmin, he’s got no clue what he’s doing, but at least he’s trying. He’s cutting muscle and tendons and all this stuff he never learned about. The knife starts to tap against Mingyu’s bone and Jihoon tosses the bloody scalpel and exchanges it for the bonesaw. He holds it up and inspects it before knitting his eyebrows together and turning to Seokmin.

“This is gonna sound so gross,” Jihoon bares his clenched teeth.

Hansol is making his way down the ladder as Jihoon settles the saw into the cut. His face is indifferent until he takes in what’s happening in the middle of the room. His jaw drops and he crouches a little too close to Mingyu’s body. This is the best thing he’s seen since one of Chan’s cuts got infected. Jihoon gives the younger boy a disapproving look before he starts working the saw. He’s got a tight grip on Mingyu’s forearm, holding it in place. There’s blood all over the place, so Jihoon can’t tell how much of the bone is actually cut. Hansol looks at Mingyu’s face and almost laughs.

“If he’s passed out, why do you still have something in his mouth.” He pinches Seokmin’s wrist wrap balled up in the elder’s mouth and pulls it out.

Jihoon doesn’t answer and snatches the material from the other, using it to wipe the blood out of the way. It’s clear now that there’s only a small portion of bone to cut through. Jihoon breathes a sigh of relief. Hansol grabs Jihoon’s arm as he saws. The elder looks up at him like he’s stupid.

“Keep the saw there,” Hansol holds his hands out steady.

He squeezes his hand into a fist and hits the end of the saw with the ball of his hand. The first hit doesn’t crack the small fraction of bone like he had expected it to, but the second one does. Hansol is the first to grab for the arm now disconnected from Mingyu’s body.

“Can I kee-,”

“No,” Jihoon immediately interjects, pulling the arm out of Hansol’s grasp.

The younger boy huffs and returns upstairs. Now that the hard parts done, Jihoon has to figure up how to close up the end of Mingyu’s arm. Seokmin silently stands up and heads into Mingyu’s office to look for any books or information while Jihoon experiments with what he has. A needle, four staples (but no gun), and the seven scalpels he brought out. Jihoon sets the small needle aside and sighs. He knows how to sew clothing, so he has some faith in himself. But a sweater and an open human arm are two completely different things.

“Can you bring out any string or whatever if you see any?” Jihoon is starting to get nervous.

He doesn’t take his eyes off the inside of Mingyu’s upper arm. He sticks his scalpel in and pokes around, clearing any excess muscle Mingyu isn’t going to need anymore. Seokmin returns with another handful of medical supplies he has no clue how to use. He hands the elder some makeshift string he found. It’s definitely not for medical use, but if Mingyu has it in his office it’s gotta be useful. Jihoon thinks it’s dental floss.

Jihoon threads it through the needle and ties the end. He then pinches the skin and sticks the needle in one end and pulls it closed. It’s kind of gross watching the skin bind together the way it does. The way it protrudes through the string isn’t something Jihoon expected. But then again this isn’t sewing a sweater. Seokmin decides to keep himself occupied by grabbing the arm that Hansol put down beside Mingyu’s head.

“Do you think if we gave the kid this arm that he’d stop cutting into Chan?” Seokmin slowly spins the arm around and examines it.

Jihoon squints at one of his final sutures and pokes at it with his finger. He blindly grabs the bandage brought by Seokmin and begins to cover the incision.

“Yeah, yeah. Help me get him up to his cot.”

Seokmin doesn’t think Jihoon comprehended what he said.

 

-

 

That night Jihoon moves his sleeping bag over to Mingyu’s cot so he can keep an eye on him throughout the night. That means Soonyoung has to move his sleeping bag again. His first move was into Junghan’s bed a few nights ago. He still spends his nights crying. As an act of kindness, Seokmin helps the elder move his roll. Soonyoung sticks his face into Junghan’s old blanket and inhales the slightly faded scent.

There’s no itinerary speech tonight. There actually hasn’t been one in a few nights. Jihoon doesn’t really have an idea of what to do anymore. Just survive, he thinks. But saying that and then going to sleep is useless. These kids wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Jihoon. That’s why he never leaves the house. They need him there.

Seokmin tosses the detached arm onto Hansol’s cot. Chan has his back turned, so Seokmin thinks he’s asleep, but the boy is wide awake. Hansol grabs the arm and quickly sits up.

“This is sick,” The younger boy looks the arm up and down. “How’d you get him to give it up?”

Seokmin crouches down so he’s eye level with Hansol. With a stern look, he points to the arm.

“Don’t cut into Chan anymore,” He completely disregards the question and gives Hansol the reason why he gifted him the arm.

Chan takes a deep breath in and for the first time in awhile, he smiles. No one sees it, but it’s a genuine smile.

As Seokmin settles down into his improvised bed, Soonyoung turns to face him. His eyes are red and puffy, but it’s nothing new. What’s new is that he’s not crying anymore. It’s actually surprising when he conjures a smile and perches his chin in his hand. Seokmin returns the gesture but hesitates as he notices Soonyoung visibly bite the inside of his cheek before he shyly loses eye contact with the younger.

“Do you think he felt anything?” The waterworks start as soon as they stopped and he finds himself pushing his tears away with the balls of his hands.

Seokmin loses his smile and purses his lips instead. He sticks his arm out and pushes the elder’s bangs out of his face.

“No,” His voice is as light as ever, “he felt no pain at all.”

Seungcheol’s muscles tense up as bites the tip of his thumb.

Jisoo lays on his back beside Soonyoung. His hands are folded on his stomach and he stares blankly at the ceiling.

“You know, Soonyoung, God welcomed Junghan into his ar-”

“Can you drop the religion shit? News flash, there’s no religion anymore, dumbass,” Minghao blurts out against Junhui’s chest.

The room falls silent. Soonyoung’s lip quivers as he lays his head down. Seokmin purses his lips and shuts his eyes, sighing. Jisoo hasn’t moved an inch. He’s still got a dead stare at the wood above him. He keeps Minghao in his prayers.

 

-

 

Chan chokes on his breath as he sits up. Everyone else is asleep. Even Soonyoung, who's been restless the past few nights. Somewhere in the room someone’s mumbling in their sleep, but they're too quiet, so Chan can't put a face to the voice. He cups his face and lightly pushes his thumbs in his eyes to clear his groggy vision. As he rests his arms on his knees he realizes his left arm works. The scars are still there, but he can clench his fist and wiggle his fingers just like he used to for Mingyu's checkups. But it all backfires instantaneously.

This all has to be a dream.

The mumbling is getting louder but no one seems to wake up. Turns out it's Hansol. Chan sighs and shakes his cot, causing the elder to stir. He sits up but doesn't seem awake just yet.

“Wake up asshole,” Chan spits. It's a dream, what could possibly go wrong?

Hansol’s head lolls toward Chan. His eyes are wide open now. The murmuring is clear now when Hansol repeats it towards the younger boy.

“It doesn't bleed like Chan does,” Hansol sets his sights on him.

Chan notices the arm under his cot, already covered in cuts. He clenches his teeth.

“It's not supposed to,” He wipes his sweaty palms on his sleeping bag.

Chan leans forward, trying to get a better look at Hansol. His bangs cover his sight, but he still manages to lock onto the younger boy’s face.

“It doesn't bleed like Chan does,” He repeats.

Chan clenches his teeth together and in spur of the moment, he clocks Hansol in the jaw. He follows through with the punch and climbs on top of him. The younger pushes his knees into Hansol's arms, pinning them to the cot. One of Chan’s hands grips tightly around Hansol’s throat and he screams.

“It's not supposed to!” Chan yells over and over. He doesn't have time to wipe his tears. His blurred vision causes his punches to miss his intended target. Hansol is struggling under his grasp. The tears that fall on to his broken skin sting, but not as bad as the punches themselves.

Hansol’s lip begins to bleed as the punches continuously hit his mouth and jaw. He tries to gasp for breath under the younger boy, but his breath is currently being beat out of him. When Hansol stops trying to pull his arms free, Chan stops hitting the elder. Hansol’s eyes look bleak as his breath becomes labored. He blinks several times before he can’t anymore. Chan sits back and loosens his grip around the elder’s neck. Hansol’s arms are still trapped under Chan’s knees- he tries to move his fingers- but Chan thinks it the elder’s body relaxing. There’s a short period of time that Chan just watches Hansol. His eyes are dilated and can’t seem to stay still, but he hasn’t taken a breath. As Chan shifts his knees off of the elder’s arms, he can see how deep Hansol clenched his fists. The small crescent shapes imprinted in his hand are lightly smeared with blood. Chan clenches his teeth and starts to shake his head. Slowly at first, then quickly, as he takes in everything that just happened. He can’t be dead, it’s a dream.

“Hey,” Chan pats Hansol’s cheek, smudging the blood, “Hey. Wake up.”

Hansol's body starts moving under the younger, but he’s not sure if he’s in control of it. His toes are curling and his bloody fingers are twitching, but his face is lifeless. The only movement on his face is the blood flowing down his bruised cheeks. Hansol’s mouth involuntarily hangs open now. There’s a slight gurgling coming from deep within his throat. He’s still breathing, Chan notices. Hansol’s still alive.

Hansol coughs, spitting some of the blood up on Chan. He tries to get back on top of the elder so he doesn’t lash back, but Hansol doesn’t. He just moves his hand around the cot aimlessly. Chan knits his brows close and watches. He isn’t looking for the younger, he’s already tapped his knee several times. Mingyu’s arm is tucked under his bed, but Chan can’t think of a reason why he’d be looking for it. But he spots Hansol’s shiv, shoved deep into Mingyu’s wrist. Chan holds his breath and leans forward slightly to get a better grasp at the knife. Hansol’s hand latches onto Chan’s bicep, nails digging deep into his already scarred skin. Chan grits his teeth as Hansol’s nails break skin. He jerks the arm back and forth trying to pull the shiv out.

With knife in hand, there's no second guessing, no consideration. It's immediately stabbed through Hansol's throat. He tries to scream but somewhere in his neck, there’s a blade preventing it, so it just sounds like some sort of haggard gasping. Chan holds his breath and gets off Hansol’s cot, and as soon as he gets the chance to, Hansol’s hands wrap tightly around his own neck. He kicks his feet under his blanket and Chan can’t seem to peel his eyes away from the sight. After a few minutes, Hansol lays there, wide eyed stare at the ceiling above, mouth ajar, blood leaking around the knife.

It’s all a dream. It’s all a dream.

Jihoon is on top of him now, slapping him back into his senses. It’s all real.

Chan coughs and tries to back out of Jihoon’s grasp. Behind the elder, he sees the mess he's just made. Seokmin already pulled Hansol's sheets down on the floor to mop the blood dripping through his cot. He's fumbling around with Hansol's body, trying to look like he's helping in some way. In all reality, he’s doing it for show. Nobody liked Hansol. Except Seungkwan, who isn’t even awake right now.

“It was a dream. This is a dream,” Chan suddenly starts stuttering.

Jihoon's face is unreadable at the moment. Chan can't even muster up an explanation for him; he doesn't even know if Jihoon wants one at the moment. Some of the others woke up to the commotion but pay no mind to it. Like Seokmin, they knew Hansol had it coming soon.

Jihoon throws Chan’s sleeping bag to the closet. He doesn’t want to deal with it.

 

-

 

Chan doesn't get much sleep the rest of the night. He lays with his ear pressed against the thin wall and listens to the boys who woke up to help clean up his mess. Someone's dragging Hansol's body by themselves, the youngest can hear his feet dragging on the floor. He can distinctly hear Jihoon asking for help soaking up the blood and only Soonyoung responding.

Chan lightly taps his finger on the wall to keep his mind busy. There's someone there on the other side, he can tell by the way his finger echos off the wall. He stops for a second, but whoever it is on the other side picks up the same rhythm. Chan curls his hand up into his chest and keeps quiet until dawn.

 

-

 

Jihoon settles down at Mingyu’s cot and pushes his hair out of his face. Mingyu's still breathing, but his bandages show faint blood leaking through. Jihoon thinks it's blood. It's got a yellowish tint to it, but it's still blood to him.

Seokmin grabs him a new wrap from Mingyu's room and brings it back up to the elder. He doesn't ask Jihoon if he'd like the honor of changing bandages. Jihoon already cut off Mingyu's arm, he's done enough. The younger boy bundles up the stained wraps and puts them beside him. What's left of Mingyu's arm smells disgusting and Jihoon has to peek over Seokmin’s shoulder just to make sure something didn't crawl in there and die during the night. Mingyu's stitches are crusted with blood and more of that putrid yellow fluid. Seokmin wipes some of it away with Mingyu's blanket and rewraps the stump. Mingyu's face looks drained and sick. The bags under his eyes are dark and sunken in and drool seems to have dried in the corners of his mouth. But he's breathing.

 

-

 

Chan is already starting to lose track of time of day after a single day. He’s moved twice, once for the bathroom, and another time for dinner. Jisoo secretly brings him an extra slice of some sort of meat and sits with him for a few minutes.

He can tell Chan’s been crying. His eyes are swollen and every now and then his lip quivers. Jisoo doesn’t say anything to the younger the entire time he sits with him. He only wants to leave his leftovers so Chan can have something to pick at. No one knows when Jihoon will let him out. Seungcheol spent two years in there. There’s no telling when Chan will get out.

Chan thinks he’s already going crazy when he hears the tapping on the other side of the wall again. He raises his head off the wall and watches it for a few moments before averting his eyes to Jisoo, who seems to hear it as well. The elder pushes himself off the ground and heads for the door. Chan bites his lip, but it doesn’t stop him from attempting to catch Jisoo before he leaves.

“I heard it last night too...” It’s rushed and quiet so Jisoo doesn’t acknowledge it.

Chan purses his lips and lays his head back against the wall. He doesn’t open his eyes for another few hours, when the lock clicks on the door.. Whoever is on the other side doesn’t open it. Chan frowns and disregards the free chance to make a break for it. All until there’s a thud and a muffled whimper. The youngest kicks his blanket off his lap and crawls to the door, grabbing ahold of the knob to help himself up.

From what Chan can see, Seokmin’s jaw is locked around a dirty rag. His eyes are clenched shut, almost to the point where his tears can’t even come out. Seungcheol stands in front of him with one of Mingyu’s old rusted scalpels in the left hand, a handful of Seokmin’s hair in the right. The elder doesn’t notice Chan peeking through the crack yet. He’s too busy staring Seokmin in the eyes. He’s not asking him anything, he’s just staring.

Seungcheol twists the blade between his fingers and gently pushes it against the side of Seokmin’s neck. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to force a whine out of the younger. Seungcheol lifts the knife and sets it in the middle of his throat, right on top of his adam’s apple. This time he pushes it in a little harder, just for the reaction. This time when the eldest pulls the blade away, there’s a red imprint, but still no blood.

Seungcheol shimmies the handle in his hand and gets a better grip on the handle before stabbing it hard into Seokmin’s neck. He quickly pulls it back out and stabs it directly into the imprint from before. Again, he pulls it out and jabs it into the first mark he left. Just when Chan thinks he’s done, Seungcheol roughly drags the knife through each cut. The younger stutters over himself and causes Seungcheol to let go of the knife and Seokmin’s head. His limp body slumps to the ground.

The eldest cringes as Chan cracks the door open a bit wider. He tucks his chin deep in his shoulder and bites hard onto his lip, trapping in his pleads. The ones where he begs at Chan’s feet not to tell Jihoon, or anyone for that matter. But he can’t control himself and he drags himself on his hands and knees to Chan’s feet. He grabs ahold of the youngest’s hand (which wasn’t even offered) and pulls himself up. He looks Chan in the eyes and digs his fingernails deep into his shoulderblades. The youngest hisses and tries to pull himself out from Seungcheol’s grip, but he stops when the elder chokes on his words.

“I’m safe in the light, Chan,” He shakes the boy. “You don’t get it.”

Seungcheol’s arms are shaking involuntarily now. Not a lot, just a nervous jitter he usually deals with. He stares at the youngest for a few seconds before shoving him back in the closet. Seungcheol closes the door on Chan and locks him back in.

Seungcheol quickly makes his way out of the room and back to his cot for the night. Much like Chan, he gets no sleep and pretends to be startled the next morning when Jisoo stumbles upon Seokmin’s dead body. Seungcheol volunteers to help Jisoo move him outside, which keeps the eldest on Jihoon’s good side for now.

 

-

 

Mingyu’s eyes are constantly moving under his eyelids, Jihoon doesn’t really understand why or how, but it’s all he can watch. They’ve relocated his body into his own room, just in case there’s some sort of medical emergency Jihoon thinks he can tend to. Mingyu still hasn’t woken up and in all honesty, Jihoon doesn’t think he’s going to. No one here has any medical experience and half of them are dead anyway. Jihoon lays his forehead on Mingyu’s stomach and sighs.

Seungcheol waits until everyone upstairs is asleep before he slips back into Chan’s room for the second night and unlocks the closet. He holds his finger up to his lips and repeatedly points at the ground. Chan watches him with cautious eyes, but still follows him down.

The eldest stands outside the bathroom door and motions Chan in front of it. He cups his hand near the boy’s ear and shushes him when he flinches.

“Go in there and distract him,” Seungcheol whispers. “I’ll come in after.”

Chan turns his head towards the eldest and purses his lips.

“Who’s in ther-”

Seungcheol turns the knob and pushes Chan inside before he can finish.

Soonyoung is the one in the bath. He’s holding his legs close to his chest with his chin rested on his knees. As expected, his eyes are swollen and he’s sniffling, catching snot before it runs. He only moves his eyes to see who’s there and lifts his head once he sees it’s Chan.

“Chan…” He whispers. “Jihoon let you out?”

“Yeah,” Chan raises his eyebrows and ruffles his hair nervously.

“That’s good,” Soonyoung’s voice is so soothing. It’s raspy from all the coughing and crying he’s been doing, but it just adds to the calming aspect of it. He settles his chin back into the red imprint on his knees.

Chan sits down at a comfortable distance from the tub and repeatedly opens and closes his mouth, thinking he should start a conversation with Soonyoung. But he clenches his jaw shut when Seungcheol finally opens the door and slides in.

That’s when Soonyoung tenses up.

Seungcheol kneels close to the tub and pushes Soonyoung’s damp bangs off his face. He keeps his hand at the crook of the younger’s neck and rubs his thumb up and down.

“How are you feeling?” He smiles. Soonyoung smiles back, but it’s a nervous ‘ _please don’t touch me’_ kind of smile. But Seungcheol doesn’t know how to read body language unless it’s fear. He waits for Soonyoung to respond, and when he doesn’t, the eldest grips tight onto his neck.

“Good,” Soonyoung flinches. “I feel good.” Obviously lying.

The air in the room is stale. Soonyoung hasn’t relaxed his muscles yet and Chan hasn’t unclenched his jaw. Seungcheol releases his grip on the younger’s neck but keeps his hand still. Soonyoung’s lip is quivering as he stares blankly ahead. He swallows the knot in his throat and grips his ankles under the water.

“You killed Junghan,” He meets Seungcheol’s eyes. “Right?”

Seungcheol laughs but doesn’t answer. It’s pretty self explanatory.

“Seokmin?” He asks, just a tad bit quieter.

Seungcheol raises his free hand up to Soonyoung’s face, reaching for the stray tear rolling down his cheek. The younger tries to avoid it but finds himself trapped by Seungcheol’s other hand on his neck. The eldest wipes the tear away and cups Soonyoung's jaw.

Chan tries to see over Seungcheol. The elder has his hands on Soonyoung’s shoulders and Soonyoung has his eyes shut. Tears still flow, and his lips still tremble. Seungcheol puts no effort into pushing the younger under the water.

 

Chan pushes himself up off the ground and bites the inside of his cheek as he watches Soonyoung’s face relax under the water. A few bubbles surface from his mouth, and a few escape from his nostrils. His eyes are slightly open. He blinks them a few times, but much like the rest of his body, they’re not moving. His hair ghosts over his face. Even when it covers his eyes, Chan still doesn’t take his off the elder’s.

“He’s not fighting it, Chan,” Seungcheol pulls his hands off Soonyoung’s body.

The younger boy’s body rises back up to the surface and bobs back under the waterline.

“He wasn’t fighting it,” He repeats.

When Chan doesn’t respond, Seungcheol looks over his shoulder. The youngest has his back turned to him at the door. He silently slides through shoulder first, pulling the door close behind him.

Jihoon glances out the door of Mingyu’s room as he hears the bathroom door click open. Chan emerges from behind it. Which is impossible. Because Chan was upstairs locked in the closet. His hair is ruffled and his eyes don’t blink; they stare directly through Jihoon. The youngest is making his way towards Jihoon. There’s a small intake of air, and then his breathe hitches. His fingers twitch as he tries to point back at the bathroom.

“I-I… I,” He whispers. “I need to get out of here.”

Chan drags his feet against the wood. They’re heavy and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to run. And that’s okay. Chan truly believes he’s seen it all. He’s had enough, and he could accept death, had it meet him face to face. He grabs a small flashlight and slides down into the bunker entrance of the shelter. Jihoon stands there speechless. He grabs the gun by Mingyu’s room and makes his way to the bathroom.

Seungcheol is kneeled over the tub. His forearms are resting on the edge of the cracked tub. Soonyoung’s eyes barely peeks above the waterline. They’re heavily lidded and there’s no sign of him breathing. Seungcheol can’t stop staring at his own hands. They’re dripping water back into the tub and he’s whining. It’s quiet, but just loud enough for Jihoon to hear him.

“Seungcheol,” Jihoon murmurs.

The eldests fingers twitch and his neck sinks into his shoulders. There’s a brief moment of silence before Seungcheol swats the water off his hands and hangs his head low.

“I didn’t mean to do it this time. Really,” The eldest sighs, pushing himself up off the tub.

He pushes his way by Jihoon and heads towards the ladder. Jihoon finds it hard to pull his sights away from Soonyoung’s body, but he manages to take a step out of the doorway and aim the rifle at the eldest. Seungcheol stops immediately when Jihoon clicks the safety off.

“Leave,” Jihoon spits.

Seungcheol raises his hands slowly. His head turns over his shoulder before his body follows. His eyes hold an empty stare at Jihoon. The younger continuously readjusts his grip on the gun. Seungcheol doesn’t move out of Jihoon’s way as he makes his way out. He leaves a foot between them. His hands are still up and Jihoon hasn’t taken his aim off the elder. When Seungcheol takes a step forward, Jihoon takes one back. When Jihoon feels the bunker entrance at his heels he pushes the tip of the gun into the elder’s chest. He shuts his eyes and tries his hardest not to sound scared when he calls for Jisoo, who almost instantly sticks his head down the ladder.

He hops down the ladder and grabs Seungcheol’s wrists. The eldest could easily break from Jisoo’s grasp, but he doesn’t put up the fight. He still has a gun pushed firmly into his sternum and isn’t really feeling up to getting shot.

Jihoon hesitates as he pulls the gun out of Seungcheol’s chest. He makes his way into Mingyu’s room, where he grabs a decent sized cloth sack and brings it back to Jisoo, who already has zipties on the eldest’s wrists. He nudges Seungcheol into the pit in front of him and follows in after him. Seungcheol doesn’t flinch when Jisoo covers his head, there’s nothing much he can do now. Jihoon hands off the rifle to Jisoo and tosses an extra flashlight off the ground.

Jisoo begins pushing Seungcheol through the bunker at gunpoint.

 

-

 

Jihoon shuts the makeshift door to Mingyu’s room and returns to the seat wheeled over by the table. Mingyu hasn’t moved, as expected. His skin is a bit paler, and he’s colder to touch. His breath rapidly escapes from his parted lips. His chest rises and falls just as quick, it just doesn’t seem to match his respiration. The elder holds his head in his hand and watches Mingyu closely. With every ragged exhale, Jihoon knows he’s not going to make it much longer.

He imagines himself with his hands gripping tightly around the younger’s neck. But only for a second, he swears.

And as if God himself were listening in on Jihoon’s thoughts, Mingyu’s breath hitches.

There’s a moment where Jihoon thinks he sees the whites of Mingyu’s eyes. But it quickly passes when the younger’s head lolls off to the side. There’s no more haggard breathing. His chest lays flat. Jihoon slams his fist down on the table and walks out of the room. There’s no helping it.

Mingyu’s dead. Hansol’s dead. Soonyoung’s dead. Jihoon hopes he'll be dead soon.

 

-

 

Jisoo hasn’t taken his sights off the back of the bag on Seungcheol’s head. The tip of his gun has been pushed into the elder’s spine for hours now. They’re miles away from where they started. Jisoo cups his mouth and lets a yawn slip between his fingers. Seungcheol stopped picking up his feet about twenty minutes ago. Now he just drags them through the dirt and kicks up dust. Jisoo debates on wrapping Seungcheol’s zip ties around the next pole he sees and leaving him there. But he isn’t feeling it tonight. He pulls his gun from the elder’s spine and sticks his foot in front of him. Seungcheol chokes on his spit and tumbles to the ground. Jisoo pulls the sack off Seungcheol’s head and motions the gun towards him.

“If you somehow make it back, Jihoon will kill you.”

Seungcheol has a bit of drool slipping out of the corner of his mouth. He blinks a few times to adjust to the dry air.

“Thanks church boy,” He coughs. “I’m not sure why.”

Jisoo rolls his eyes and settles the gun on his back. As he walks away, Seungcheol struggles on the ground to stand up on his own. There’s nothing really in his vicinity to push himself up against. Jisoo doesn’t look back, even after hearing the grunting and kicking happening behind him. He figures he can leave Seungcheol his pride, seeing as he left him nothing else.

 

-

 

When Jisoo makes his way back into the house, he catches a glimpse of Jihoon pulling Mingyu’s body out by the one good arm he still had. He looks like shit. Jihoon and Mingyu both. But Mingyu’s dead, and it’s expected. Jihoon on the other hand, who is still alive and well for the most part, looks like death himself.

Jisoo doesn’t acknowledge the younger as they both make their way through the bunker. They both immediately go upstairs and lay down in their cots. Jihoon closes his eyes and falls asleep no problem. Jisoo stays awake. He lays on his back and stares blankly at the ceiling. Seungkwan snores lightly beside him. Junhui is subconsciously brushing Minghao’s hair in his sleep. It’s hard to tell if Jihoon is even in the room. He sleeps so quietly. Jisoo watches over him for a few seconds, trying to understand where everything went wrong. Jihoon is so tired now. But who isn’t at this point.

Jisoo settles into his bed and grabs the cross hooked around his neck, tugging it off. He slips his small metal crucifix into the crack in the floor beside him and pulls his blanket over his shoulder.

 

-

 

The next morning, Seungkwan refuses to leave his bed for breakfast. Now that their numbers have decreased rapidly, they can afford to eat three meals a day. Seungkwan hasn’t taken up the offer. Not just for breakfast, but also lunch. If he’s up to it, he’ll crawl out of his sleeping bag at dinner time and nibble at whatever Jisoo brings back. He can’t tell if Jisoo isn’t trying anymore or if he really isn’t finding much out there anymore. The youngest is getting tired of eating canned meat every night. He doesn’t tell anyone, he just doesn’t eat. It shows after a few weeks, and had Mingyu still been here, he’d be forcing the expired food down the younger’s throat. But Mingyu’s dead. And after 3 weeks, Seungkwan is nothing but skin and bones.

Jihoon will sometimes grab his shoulder and tries to coax him to eat, but instantly lets go. He gets a twitch in his neck every now and then after he grabs the younger. He thinks he’s grabbing some sort of living skeleton and he can’t handle it.

Minghao picks at Seungkwan, even when Junhui scolds him for it. Which is new; the scolding thing. It’s kind of like Junhui is getting sick of his other half. Minghao doesn’t see it. He never sees Junhui’s bad side. But it only comes out when Minghao takes a jab at the younger. Like yesterday night, when Seungkwan surprises Jihoon and eats a full plate of applesauce Jisoo brought home.  

“You know Seungkwan,” Minghao sneers. “Now that you just ate all of that you’re gonna have to wait another week to die.”

And Seungkwan will look up from his plate with those dark bags under his eyes and his jaw will shake and he can’t do a single thing about it. Sure, he wants to die. Sooner rather than later. But now all he can think about is having to spend another week listening to Minghao taunt him, and Junhui will grab the younger by his broken collar and threaten him.

“So help me God, Minghao,” He growls in his ear. “I’ll find a way to fix this fucking collar and I’ll set it off.”

Minghao just smirks and bites his lip as if he’s getting some sort of satisfaction from the ultimatum. But in no way is Junhui joking.

 

-

 

Seungcheol has been abandoned for a few weeks now. He hasn’t run into a single person. It’s not like he’s expected to out here. He’s rummaged a few barred up stores here and there and has managed to get some food for himself. He’s got a knife now. It’s tucked tightly into the pocket of his jeans.

He shakes the last few drops of his dirty water bottle into his mouth. It serves no purpose empty, so he tosses the container and mentally makes a note to find a new one. Soon preferably. Because he thinks he’s going crazy. Crazier than before, that is.

At night he hears people in his ear. He swears it’s Junghan. That soft raspy voice of his is recognizable anywhere, even if he’s been dead for months. He swears the voice is leading him somewhere. So every morning he’ll walk a bit further, and this morning, in the distance, Seungcheol knows he sees a figure. He wiped his eyes multiple times already. It’s there and it’s real.

He walks slowly and keeps his hand gripped around his knife.

“Hey!” He shouts.

Nothing is shouted back in response. So he keeps walking closer.

Seungcheol can’t believe it when he sees it.

Chan, dragging his bleeding leg behind him through dust and dirt. He has a hand gripping around his own throat. The younger boy tries to cough, but it just sounds like a wheeze. Seungcheol doesn’t look happy. And Chan clearly picks up on that when Seungcheol kicks his bleeding leg out from under him and lands a knee into his stomach.

“You stupid piece of shit,” He spits in Chan’s face.

Chan is gasping for any air he can get but it’s not seeming to come to him. Especially with the elder’s knee separating his organs. Seungcheol pulls his fist back and lands a hard blow into the younger’s jaw. Repeating the same five words over and over with each punch.

“You,” Jaw.

“Stupid,” Throat.

“Piece,” Nose.

“Of,” Cheekbone.

“Shit,” Seungcheol grabs a fistfull of the younger’s hair and slams the back of his head against the ground.

He doesn’t stop until Chan is on the brink of death. He holds a good chunk of thick black hair in his hand and leans close to his face.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you. You fucking told that asshole Jihoon that I killed everyone,” He grabs just a bit tighter.

Chan’s eyes are continuously rolling back and forth like they’re in some sort of dizzy stur.

“Didn’t,” He groans. “Didn’t tell.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Seungcheol huffs before he knocks Chan’s head into the dirt one last time.

If hemorrhaging doesn’t kill him, something or someone else eventually will.

The eldest doesn’t hesitate to loot Chan’s pockets and rip the bag off his back.

 

-

 

Seungkwan passes on dinner tonight. But so does Jisoo. Minghao doesn’t taunt the elder, but Seungkwan gets a ‘don’t worry, six more days till that applesauce wears off!’ And the youngest wants to believe him. Six days it just too long for him.

This time Junhui drags Minghao downstairs to the bathroom. He’s not sure if anyone dumped the water they pulled Soonyoung out of, but Junhui doesn’t care. He grabs Minghao’s dirty hair and dunks it under the waterline. After a few seconds, he pulls the younger back up and watches him struggle to catch his breath.

“Of all things for you to forget, it had to be that you were a fucking slave to someone,” Junhui submerges him again.

“Is this how your old owner used to talk to you?” He slaps Minghao’s wet face. “Well?”

“No,” He stutters. “No, sir.”

“Then stop it,” He scolds.

And that’s the last anyone hears of the two that night.

Seungkwan rocks back and forth upstairs, whispering to himself, “I’m ready to go.”

He doesn’t cry though. He has a theory that if he cries, he won’t be able to hold himself back from catching his tears with his tongue. As if somehow that will hold him over from falling over and dying.

 

-

 

Jisoo left this morning with one small supplies bag. Jihoon hands him the gun as usual and sends him out. There’s a few hours where absolutely nothing is said. Junhui put the fear of the lord into Minghao last night, so he doesn’t pick on Seungkwan, who hasn’t left his bed, or even opened his eyes yet.

Jihoon sits outside the house by the covered bunker entrance. He has no real meaning to be out here, and he knows that. He has no protection on him except his fist. And even then he really isn’t putting up a fight. He sits with his legs crossed in front of him and his hands clasped in his lap. He keeps pinching the skin on his thumb, and he can distinctly hear his mother’s voice telling him to quit being so nervous. He doesn’t even know why he’s so skittish today. Maybe it was something in the applesauce, he thinks. The applesauce always messes with someone.

While Jihoon is sitting outside twiddling his thumbs and thinking about poisonous applesauce, Jisoo drops Chan’s body in front of him. His face is crusted with blood and bruised beyond recognition. He can see the scars from Hansol's shiv marked clearly on his arm. Jihoon sighs and runs his hands through his hair. He looks over at the pile of bodies they've dragged out of the house already, then back at Chan. Jisoo tugs the youngest’s body to the pile then wipes the sweat off his face. He returns inside with Jihoon following close behind.

 

-

 

Jisoo has been sitting by Seungkwan’s side for the entire second half the day. He been watching closely but there is no sign of him breathing at all. He finds peace knowing that Seungkwan died quietly last night. He checks over his shoulder to make sure the room is clear. When it is, he lifts up the younger boy’s shirt. Jisoo leans forward and ghosts his lips gently over the skin between Seungkwan’s ribs. He bares his teeth ever so slightly and presses them against the skin. The elder pauses for a moment, then resumes sinking his teeth into Seungkwan’s body. A small puff of air escapes from Seungkwan’s lips. Jisoo thinks he’s pushed too hard. But his teeth are already sunk into the younger’s diaphragm. He pulls away and chews the small chunk of skin he bit off.

And he doesn’t stop there.

He doesn’t bite down deep enough to bear organs. He thinks he has enough decency. But he does take most of the skin off Seungkwan’s ribs and stomach.

That’s when Jihoon comes upstairs, asking Jisoo to keep watch. The younger doesn’t hesitate to pull the gun on Jisoo. But he hesitates (as usual) and doesn't pull the trigger. He just watches Jisoo scatter to hide the fact that he was eating a dead body. Had he wiped the blood off his face, it'd be pretty convincing. But he’s sitting there, wide eyes focused on Jihoon, blood smeared on the bottom half of his face. Jisoo’s fingers are rapidly hitting his thighs. They too are covered in Seungkwan’s blood. He wants to pick the chunks of skin out from under his nails, but he doesn’t think he’ll get the chance. Not when Jihoon is slowly making his way closer to the two. Maybe to get a better look. But it’s pretty clear what just happened here.

Jisoo stares down the barrel of the gun before he grabs ahold of it. Jihoon doesn't let him pull it out of his grip, but instead, follows with the motion.

“Do me a favor,” Jisoo’s eyes stare directly at the ground, as he pushes the muzzle of the gun hard against his forehead. “Don't hesitate this time.”

The tip of the gun doesn’t stay there for long. Jisoo starts to pull down slightly, making the aim of the gun drag slowly down his face. It falls off the tip of his nose and settles on the inside of his bottom lip, pulling his mouth open. After a few seconds, the blood in Jisoo’s mouth starts to drool. He grabs tighter onto the barrel and with the gun pushed harshly against Jisoo’s bottom teeth, he looks up at Jihoon.

Jihoon swallows as he watches the bloody spit drip from the elder’s mouth. He can’t seem to close his mouth. But he also can’t seem to take his finger off the trigger. It’s shaking, his finger. It’s trembling on the trigger and he hopes he gets some nervous twitch so when Junhui questions why Jisoo’s got a bullet through the back of his head, Jihoon can say it was some sort of mistake. Like he’s not literally begging on his knees to be killed.

So Jihoon pulls the trigger. On purpose.

Jihoon didn’t know what he expected. But this was much worse than he could imagine. Even after the shot stops ringing in his ears, his teeth are still gritted tightly together. Jihoon feels paralyzed. He can’t relax his shoulders, which are pushed up close to his ears. He drops the gun and slips down the ladder as quick as possible. Junhui looks up from Minghao’s head in his lap. He’s got a screwdriver in one hand while the other is pushing the younger’s head down on his lap. Minghao doesn’t seem to be aware that Junhui is messing around with the activation switch inside his collar. Junhui furrows his brows and watches as Jihoon tumbles to the ground. He doesn’t say anything, he just waits for Jihoon to tell him Jisoo’s dead. It’s obvious, he just wants to hear it for himself.

“We can’t go upstairs anymore,” He stammers.

Close enough.

 

-

 

After a few days, the smell upstairs is hard to ignore. And the boys can’t seem to come to terms on who needs to go up there and take care of it. Junhui hasn’t stopped screwing with Minghao’s collar, and the younger is just now starting to get suspicious. Junhui tells him if he moves an inch, that Minghao will have to go clean up the mess, so he doesn’t question a single thing.

Jihoon hasn’t left from the spot he fell into three days ago. The smell has ruined his appetite. He thinks it’s permanent, and that he’ll die just like Seungkwan did. But now he has some sudden fear that Junhui will cut him up and feed him to Minghao. Because that’s apparently how life goes now. Jihoon snaps out of his daze when he hears Junhui slam down the screwdriver.

“God fucking damn it,” He grips the collar around Minghao’s throat and pulls the boy upright.

Minghao is clearly too stunned to ask what’s wrong. His face holds a blank expression, staring into Junhui’s eyes.

“It’s broken, Minghao,” Junhui hums as he strokes the younger’s hair back. “Your collars broke for good.”

Minghao raises a hand to his collar and ghosts his fingers over it, eyes still settled on the elder’s.

“Oh... You were trying to turn it back on,” He murmurs. “I thought you were trying to take it off,” He averts his eyes.

The two forget Jihoon is even in the room. Minghao slowly pushes himself away from Junhui. One hand grasping his broken collar and one helping keep him up. Junhui crawls after him, trying to seem empathetic. But it doesn’t work, because when Minghao’s back hits the wall, he tries to kick the elder away. The tears welling in the corners of his eyes are starting to burn. He hasn’t cried in so long he almost forgot what it felt like. Junhui fights past Minghao’s flailing legs and cups the younger’s face.

“I’m just so tired,” The elder coos. His smile is so bittersweet. A half-assed pitiful smile to convince the other that he wasn’t trying to harm him. Minghao keeps quiet, and it makes Junhui wonder, “Aren’t you tired, Minghao?”

When Minghao nods, he starts slow. And as his nodding gains a slight speed, his tears slip down his cheeks and run into Junhui’s hand.

“You’re tired baby,” Junhui’s voice is soft now.

He coaxes Minghao into his lap and brushes his hair one more time. The younger rests his head delicately on Junhui’s shoulder. The elder can feel his tears soak through his thin t-shirt. They’re warm against Junhui’s skin. It’s all he can think about. As soon as Junhui feels a rush of regret enveloping him, he grabs for his gun tucked in the back of his jeans. It’s not quick. In fact, he pulls his gun out so slow, Minghao already has his hand out before he can bring it around his back.

Minghao’s fingers wrap slowly around the grip of the pistol. He doesn’t lift his head off Junhui’s shoulder as he inspects the gun. He’s never held one before, Junhui never let him.

Junhui sets his second pistol down on his thigh. He grabs tightly around Minghao’s hand and tucks the muzzle of the gun deep into his own jaw. Junhui then grabs his own pistol and ever so lightly touches the tip to Minghao’s neck. He rests his head on top of Minghao’s and sits silently for a few moments.

“Junhui,” Minghao whispers, his voice cracking slightly, “I want to go somewhere with you. Somewhere green. Somewhere where we don’t have to live like this.”

Junhui’s skin rubs against Minghao’s when he turns slightly to kiss the younger’s forehead. He blindly searches for Minghao’s free hand and grips it tightly. A loving tight. Not the harsh blood bearing tight the younger was always used to.

Junhui whispers “Three,” into the stale air. On two, Minghao bites his lip and closes his eyes. On one, Jihoon flinches.

He sits up, gunshots still painfully ringing in his ears. He doesn’t bother looking at the two. The boy has already experienced the mess it makes through Jisoo. He tries to hold his breath as he heads upstairs and pushes his cot to the cleanest corner in the room, picking up his rifle on the way. The cleanest corner is still coated in blood. No one ever cleaned up after Wonwoo. Chan’s mess of Hansol is still stained into the wood in the middle of the room. Jisoo’s skull is scattered in the furthest corner. That’s where Jihoon draws the line. Skull and brain matter, the messiest of the three. He lies down slowly, as if this is all a dream and if he pretends it doesn’t happen, he’ll wake up perfectly fine.

Jihoon can’t sleep over the fuzzing of the radio in the dirty corner of the room. Being alone makes every noise ten times louder. He spends his night staring at the wall.

 

-

 

Jihoon’s eyes are bloodshot when he sits up the next morning. He doesn’t let either hand go of the gun. He clutches it close to his chest, as if someone was trying to take it away from him. There’s a brief moment where Jihoon sits the gun up in his lap and rests his chin on the muzzle. It was so easy for Minghao and Junhui to do it. Why can’t he?

“Stop,” He whispers at first.

“Stop talking like that…” He starts hitting his temple repeatedly with the ball of his hand.

No one is there. Nobody but Jihoon. Not a single word was said to him.

When he starts to get a headache from pounding his fist into his head he catches a handful of his hair and grips tightly, trying to pull it out. His breathing escalates rapidly and he’s hissing through his teeth.

“Maybe I should do it,” Jihoon cocks his head.

“But who’s gonna take care of the others?” He replies to himself.

_“They’re all dead. You’re the reason they’re all dead.”_

Jihoon’s own words make him flinch. That’s when his mind takes over.

_‘Everyone’s dead because you couldn’t keep it all together. You should’ve killed Seungcheol. You should’ve taken Hansol’s shiv. You should’ve tried harder with Wonwoo. You should’ve.’_

Jihoon lays the gun out in front of himself. He checks how many bullets he has left before he sets it back across his lap. Two bullets.

“Good,” He twitches.

He stretches his foot out and aims the gun at it. One half of him wants to know how bad this is going to hurt. The other half wants to punish himself for making everyone go through this. He hopes that when he finally dies that somehow he’ll get good karma if he shows a little compassion in his death.

He doesn’t even flinch when he fires at his foot. Sure it hurts. But his adrenaline kicks in and before he can even think it through, he sticks the tip of the gun into his temple and fires again.

 

-

 

The house lays quiet for weeks. If anyone were to pass by, they’d probably be cautious of the pile of decomposing bodies and just keep moving. But the pile was there when Seungcheol left, and it’s still there when he comes back months later. He constantly reminds himself that Jisoo left him with that stupid ‘If you make it back, Jihoon will kill you” threat.

The eldest kicks the dirt off the bunker entrance and crawls through. His immediately covers his nose with the bandana tied around his neck. He doesn’t take the time to see who the two decomposing in the foyer are. Nothing dead is worth anything to him anyway. Before he heads upstairs, he grabs what he can from Mingyu’s old room and tucks it into his bag.

He sticks his eyes above the ladder hole and laughs. When he climbs the rest of the ladder he realizes what exactly went on. Another two bodies are laying on top of each other. That’d be Seungkwan and Jisoo. Seungkwan’s skin is green and starting to disintegrate slightly. He can recognize him. But the other body. The head is blown completely off and it’s far too late to tell who he is now.

The only reason Seungcheol notices Jihoon’s body lying in the corner is because of that damned radio. It’s pitch is changing frequently, like something is trying to come through. But Jihoon’s limp body is on top of it, muffling anything broadcasting. He kicks the younger boy’s body, causing it to roll off of his side and onto his back.

“Well, fuck,” He squats down and inspects the clean through and through bullet wound in Jihoon’s temple. “What an empty threat. _Jihoon will kill you_ ,” He mocks, “I would’ve shot you myself, had I had a gun and you know, maybe showed up sometime last week before you took care of it yourself.”

Seungcheol shrugs, grabbing the gun next to Jihoon. He aims it at the younger boy’s face and mimics a gun sound.

He stands up and heads into the room where he had killed Seokmin. Just to inspect and loot.

He doesn’t really think anyone’s alive here if Jihoon himself is dead. He peeks inside the closet and shines a flashlight around.

Seungcheol holds his breath when the radio fuzzes louder before a voice comes through. He rushes back out into the main room upstairs and grabs the radio sticking out from under Jihoon’s body.

“...there’s anyone… there… if you can make it...safe here...”

Seungcheol hits the small radio against the ground a few times as if that will fix it. The transceiver fades back into a strong fuzz before one clear statement comes through.

“You’re not alone.” It promises. Whoever this is on the other end.

Seungcheol looks up from the radio and at Jihoon. Then Seungkwan behind him and the body sprawled next to him. He remembers the two downstairs, and the pile outside.

He chokes.

There’s a second where he stands up and stares at the radio on the ground, running his hand through his hair.

“But I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> this took me 6 months to write also sorry not sorry i killed all ur favs come at me


End file.
